


And If The Fates Align

by philindas



Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 14:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12434340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: Elizabeth is dragged to a fortune teller with some friends, and is skeptical of the reading- until the things predicted start coming true.





	And If The Fates Align

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by lilacmermaid25's prompt on tumblr, "Elizabeth doesn’t believe in psychics, but she and her friends have their future told, and the things she learns begin to come true". Let me know what you think!

“Come on, Liz, it’s the October Fun Fest. You _have_ to come,” she looks up at her roommates’ pleading from her math textbook, and even she has to admit doing Calculus on a Friday night is pretty lame.

“Fine. Just for a little bit,” she concedes, putting her book aside and allowing them to choose her outfit, even caving to a bit of makeup that’s outside of her usual mascara-and-go formula in the mornings.

UVA’s main promenade had been transformed into a massive carnival- they passed food tents and $1 games, and even a few buckets to bob for apples. There was even a haunted house across the back of the parking lot, the line to get in already looping around twice.

Elizabeth listens to her roommates chatter around her- she liked them all well enough, but all the three of them seemed to care about were boys and booze and parties. She’d come to school to get an education, to try to do something better in the world.

“Hey, let’s do a reading!” Penny tugs them all to a stop, pointing to the psychic’s tent- Elizabeth lets out a groan, and they all look at her. “What?”

“I don’t believe in psychics,” Elizabeth tells them, and Penny rolls her eyes.

“This is a five dollar psychic at a college carnival. You’re not meant to believe her, Liz. Come on, it’ll be fun!” she tugs her into the tent, and Elizabeth relents with a small sigh.

It’s dark and smoky inside the tent, and sitting at a round table, a crystal ball in the center, is a woman in an outrageous getup- billowy purple cloak dress covered in shimmery stars and moons, layered necklaces, dozens of bracelets, rings on every finger. Elizabeth fights the urge to roll her eyes, and sits down after forking over her $5 between Penny and Rose.

Most of the crap _Madam Mystique_ doles out is generic bullshit, in Elizabeth’s opinion- Penny will pass the midterm she’s terrified of, have a chance encounter with a person from her past, and try a new food she’ll love. Rose should dump the boy she’s seeing before he could hurt her (something Elizabeth had been urging her to do for _weeks_ ) and join a new club, and Janet was encouraged to travel to some place new, step out of her comfort zone on a Tuesday, and possibly try a new hair color.

And then the redheaded psychic sets her eyes on Elizabeth.

“ _You’re_ the skeptic of the group,” she starts off with an arched eyebrow, and Elizabeth can’t help the way her eyebrow arches as well.

“You could say so,” she replies, shrugging, and Madam Mystique merely cracks a smirk, chuckling in her chest. She holds out her hand for Elizabeth’s palm- when she extends her arm, she traces over the lines, reading them intently as Elizabeth watches; torn between amusement and interest.

“You have an intriguing future,” she tells her, and Elizabeth swallows her snort and derision. “You have very few family members left. Someone will call this week.”

Elizabeth frowns at that, but lets her continue reading her palm, and the woman gives a faked gasp of delight at something she finds.

“You will meet the man you marry in two fortnights,” she tells her, and Elizabeth can’t hold in her eyeroll any longer at that remark.

“I’ll start wedding dress shopping immediately,” she quips, standing- her roommates follow, and Elizabeth takes a deep breath once they’re out of the tent. “You know, I could really go for a funnel cake right about now.”

“You really didn’t believe any of that, Liz?” Janet asks as they walk towards the food tents, and Elizabeth shakes her head, letting out a rather undignified snort.

“You’re the ones who said she wouldn’t tell us anything true anyway!” she replied, causing laughter to ripple through the group. “And please. Meeting the man I’m going to marry freshman year? My life is _not_ a romance novel.”

Penny pats her arm at that before she links their elbows.

“C’mon. I’ll buy you that funnel cake.”

_

A week later, Elizabeth is reading a book when Penny flies into their room, waving a sheaf of papers in her hands.

“Liz! Liz, I got an A on my theoretical physics midterm,” she nearly screams, face bright with excitement as she jumps on Elizabeth’s bed. “Oh my god, I totally thought I failed, this is amazing!”

“I told you that you were worried for nothing!” Elizabeth replied, squeezing her arm and grinning. In the back of her mind, the psychic’s words rattle around, but she shoves them aside. Penny had studied hard.

Then, two days later, the film club has a showing of _Casablanca_ , and Rose falls in love- enough that she joins the club the next day. And Penny mentions in passing that she’d run into the boy she’d had a crush on in middle school in the student union, and Janet dyes her hair black on a whim- and then Will, of all people, calls her two weeks after the carnival to check in on her, and it’s god damn _eerie._

“I’m sorry, Liz the skeptic believes in the words of the _psychic_?” Penny teases her over dinner a week later- Janet had taken a random trip to DC with her parents, and Rose was in the room, avoiding her now-ex-boyfriend.

“It’s freaky, okay! I’ve never believed in this stuff, but everything she’s said has come true,” Elizabeth replies as she pushes her lasagna around her plate. “I mean, Janet’s in _DC_ for crying out loud, and Rose would never have taken my advice about dumping that loser!”

“So, who’s your future husband?” Penny asks, teasing still heavy in her voice, and Elizabeth rolls her eyes at that, scooping up her pasta.

“I think that that’s still a little excessive. I would not say no to some dates, though. It’s been forever,” Elizabeth laments, and Penny giggles into her salad, shaking her head fondly.

_

Someone is sitting at _her_ table at the library.

He’s cute, she’ll give him that, but it’s _her_ table and she _really_ has a poli-sci final to study for. She’s been studying there every Thursday night since the start of the semester, so she thinks she has the right to just stride over to the table and plop her things down on the opposite chair.

He looks up, glasses on the edge of his nose and hair, quite frankly, and adorable mess.

“This is my table,” she says as way of explanation, and his eyebrows merely lift a little higher. “I’ve studied here every Thursday night since the start of the year.”

“There are other tables,” he replies, but his tone is amused, and he shifts his books over so he’s only occupying half the table.

“But this is my table,” she reiterates, pulling out her books. She glances at his books, finding an assortment of religious texts. “Are you a theology major?”

“Grad student. I’m working on my thesis,” he answers, and her eyes widen in interest. “I’m Henry, by the way.”

“Elizabeth,” she tells him, shaking the hand he extends. “I’m not disturbing you, am I? Because I can move. There are other tables.”

“No, you’re not. I like the company,” he replies, sending her a wink, and a pleased flush flashes over her, coloring her cheeks as she ducks her head to pull a pencil out of her backpack.

_

“Did I ever tell you a psychic predicted I’d meet you?” Elizabeth tells Henry years later as they’re getting ready for bed. Stevie’s school had had a carnival that night, and the sight of the silly psychic’s tent had erected the memory in Elizabeth’s brain.

Her husband looks at her in amusement as they pull down the covers of the bed- they’re anticipating at least one child joining them; Alison had been fussy, product of a long night and too much sugar.

“A psychic?” he asks, and Elizabeth nods.

“There was one at that October fest thing UVA always does, and my roommates dragged me freshman year. I can’t remember her name for the life of me, but she told me that I would meet the man I was going to marry in the next month,” she tells him, drawing a chuckle from Henry as he climbs into bed. “And then you stole my table at the library three weeks later.”

“Listen, I did not _steal_ your table,” Henry starts, and Elizabeth rolls her eyes, leaning forward to press her mouth to his.

“The point of my story was to say I didn’t believe in any of that crap until I met you,” she says as she settled into his embrace. “Maybe there was a little bit of fate involved in meeting you.”

Henry drops a kiss into her hair, squeezing her hip as he flicks the light off, and Elizabeth settles in to sleep with a sigh of contentment. Maybe she believed in fate.

Just a little bit.


End file.
